Lost
by Aireon Maris
Summary: Spike and Buffy explore Rome and meet an old friend. Or not. Fourth in the Spike and Buffy in Europe series.


Lost

Spike and Buffy explore Rome and meet some new friends. Or not.

Fourth in the Spike and Buffy in Europe series.

It was cool enough to want a jacket, and of course Buffy had forgotten hers at the tiny flat they shared in Rome. So she sat under the awning of the little café with Spike's leather duster draped over her shoulders.

"This is amazing," she said for the umpteenth time, setting her empty mug of coffee back on the table. "I never knew there was this many kinds of pasta."

Spike laughed at her and stretched his long legs in front of her. "Eh, the food's not bad," he agreed. "They do something to the blood, though. It tastes different."

Buffy snorted and swept her hair from her eyes when a vagrant breeze trailed it across her face. "You know, I thought we'd spend a few weeks going around Italy, seeing the sights. I had no idea there was so much to do just in Rome. This place is huge!"

"And you're touring it by night." Spike winked mischievously at her. "Romantic, that."

Her napkin bounced perfectly off the middle of his forehead. "The museums are always closed at night," she complained.

"I thought you didn't like museums," he protested, throwing the napkin back. "You told me after that mummy girl back in high school—"

She cut him off with a shudder. "That was major nightmare fuel. Now pretty much any museum has automatic creepiness factor. I liked the Coliseum, though! A-and when are we going to the Vatican?"

Spike gave her a strange look. "Home of the Catholic religion, Pet," he reminded her. "Crosses and churches like you wouldn't believe."

"Oh," she said, blushing slightly. "Right. Sorry." Then she brightened. "Tomorrow let's go see the Spanish Steps and the fountains."

Spike laughed again at her enthusiasm. The war against the darker members of the demon world had left the survivors tired, empty, and not a little bitter. Being around Buffy was like having the life poured back into him. She was healthy for his soul.

"Whatever you want, luv," he said. "Come on, you ready to head back?"

She frowned up at the sky. "When's sunrise?" she asked.

"A couple of hours," Spike replied, getting to his feet. "I'd rather not cut it too close."

"Hmm," she pretended to consider that. "I guess you're right."

"You bet I'm right, unless you want to spend the rest of your vacation rooming with a pile of ashes," Spike grumbled as they headed back up the cobblestone street. Buffy colored, heat flooding her cheeks. Her companion, always attuned to the scent of blood, must have sensed her embarrassment. "What?" he demanded. "What'd I say?"

"It's nothing," she mumbled back. "You just said something like that back when we were—you remember Willow's 'my will be done' spell and we thought we were—you know—it just reminded me, that's all!" she finished in a huff, trying to fold herself out of sight underneath Spike's coat.

"Oh…um, right. I do remember that," he muttered back. Buffy's head whipped up. Was Spike embarrassed about that whole mess, too? They had never spoken about it until now. Thinking that they were _engaged_? Which had been an almost twisted prelude to how their relationship had developed the following year, and…

Buffy yanked her thoughts away from that path with a vengeance, slamming her barriers closed against those memories. That was past and they had forgiven each other. After what they went through with the First Evil, how could they not?

"Buffy?" She heard Spike ask. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," she stammered quickly, offering him a weak smile. "Just some old memories."

His face closed down, becoming more like the pre-soul Spike, cold and emotionless. "Some things are best forgotten," he said sharply. Buffy sighed. There was a lot of pain in the past for both of them.

So they walked in silence down the streets of Rome, heading for their tiny, two-roomed apartment. Suddenly, Spike slipped his hand into Buffy's entwining their fingers. "I'm sorry, Pet," he said softly. "Didn't mean to snap."

"'Sokay," she replied. "Don't worry about it." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, this tall, slender vampire who loved her with all his heart and soul. In one sense she felt she was being unfair to him. How could she ever care for him as much as he cared for her? On the other hand, she was just grateful he had been there for her.

"You know what?" she said out loud, drifting closer to him until their shoulders brushed. "I think I'm glad I'm normal. No more worrying about demons or vampires, or the end of the world. I'm just a normal person. It's kind of nice."

Spike chuckled in his throat. "I hate to break it to you, luv, but you're never going to be normal."

She pouted at him. "Well, I can pretend," she said.

"Pretend all you like. But your logic starts breaking down when you realize you live with a vampire."

Buffy threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, God. You would not believe how ridiculous that sounds. I live with a vampire!" She giggled again, ignoring the strange looks the other pedestrians were giving them. "Remember when we all lost our memories and you thought you were a vampire with a soul, only you weren't, yet?"

Spike smiled. "Which just proves my point, again, that you could never be normal. Face the truth, Pet. You're a freak of nature. Just like me."

Buffy abruptly lost her humor. "Not anymore," she muttered. "I'm not Slayer-y. Therefore, not a freak. You are, though."

"Che cosa noi hanno qui?" At the strange voice so close to them, Buffy and Spike both whirled around, dropping instinctively into defensive positions.

A man walked out of the shadows toward them, his skin white and his hair black. He was razor-thin and tall, and every inch of him screamed vampire. "Hello, Spike, my old friend," he said in a heavy Italian accent. "I see your hunt was successful tonight. I hope you have enough to share."

"Ampelio," Spike growled, stepping between the other vampire and Buffy. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you outside of an ashtray."

The Italian vampire pressed his hands to his chest. "Oh, mio amico, you wound me! I thought you would be pleased to see me alive and well." He walked closer, the very picture of dark seduction. He smiled pleasantly at Buffy. "I hope this night was pleasant for you, quello bello, because it will be your last."

Spike snarled and his face morphed into a demonic visage, his eyes glowing venom-yellow. "You stay away from her, Ampelio," he warned, hissing through his fangs. Ampelio seemed taken aback at Spike's ferocity.

"I apologize, amico. I only assumed you would share with an old friend. But if you are that hungry, I will continue my hunt elsewhe—" He cut off suddenly, staring in horror at Spike. "What has happened to you, Spike? Your scent, it is…contaminated."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Spike tightened his grip on Buffy's arm, and she in turn gripped the stake in her pocket harder. Otherwise she decided it would be best if she stayed out of things.

Ampelio' expression hardened. "Indeed I would. In fact, I invite you to my villa to discuss it further."

"Sorry, but we were heading home," Spike began to edge them both further away from Ampelio. "Maybe another night."

Ampelio grinned wolfishly and vamped out. "No. I'm afraid I must insist."

Buffy had time to cry out once before something heavy crashed into the back of her skull, driving consciousness away in a flash of pain.


End file.
